Time To Wipe Your Soul Clean
by ideasfromthebraintoscreen
Summary: Dougies finding it hard being in a band at only the age of 15 so starts cutting again, something he thought he had buried in the past. Sophie looks like an average 15 yr old but inside she's hurting. They think their alone until they meet each other...
1. Chapter 1

**Time To Wipe Your Soul Clean  
><strong>_So this is going to be a new fanfic I'm starting__ if I get the right reaction, meaning I'm unsure of this idea...__ The topic is based __around Dougie __struggling __with cutting and a girl called Sophie becoming bulimic__. This is going to be written of __my __own experiences and it is very personal to me. It deals with Bulimia __and cutting __so if this is a touchy subject for you then I won't be offended if you wish to stop reading on. __I've wanted to tell the world my story for a while now and I thought to myself what better way to do it than w__ith__ McFLY involved__?  
><em>_P.S the name of this story comes from the lyrics 'Don't Wake Me Up' by McFLY. _

* * *

><p>Twisted And Decayed<p>

~Sophie~

Why on earth do I keep doing this to myself over and over again? Because it feels good. That's why, there's no denying it. When I eat, I can feel the food slurp around in the pit of my stomach, it weighing me down. The only way for me to feel better, to get on with my day is to get rid of that feeling. There's only one way you can do this. People say it's disgusting, that the girls and boys that do it are stupid and shallow. It's not all about the way we look, that's not what drives us to doing it. It's the voices, it's the feelings and it's the pain. Every time I look at a bar of chocolate or a portion of greasy chips there's a voice screaming at me; _your already fat, you don't need it, you don't need to become even fatter. __You're__ ugly and fat enough as it is. Yes, fat. You're fat. Fat, fat, fat, fat! _Bringing my food back up is like when you drink a can of fizzy juice, and the only way to get away that lumpy, burny feeling in your throat is to burp. That's like with me and eating. It's like the food gets lodged in my throat, and the only way to release the discomfort is to bring it back up. Every time I make myself sick, I sit back on my hunches, and just have a moment, grinning away to myself. I don't even know why. I had always been one of those people who insulted anorexic or bulimic people. I sneered and said '_pathetic_'. That's what they were to me, pathetic. I used to think it about all the skinny girls running around the catwalk, all the frail girls walking past me uptown. Every one of them was shallow, pathetic and disgusting. Don't think those things. Never, ever think those things when you see a girl. You may think you know someone, you might think you know every single detail about someone. You probably think you could go around categorising everyone, just going along a line pointing at them, ticking them off. It ain't like that. Everyone's human but no one is programmed to think or act the same way. Do you even know what it's like to look in the mirror and yet again be unsatisfied even after days of fasting? The voices won't go away until your lunch is sitting staring at you from the toilet bowl.  
>The best thing about bulimia is that it's silent.<br>No one can see it.  
>No one can hear it.<br>Isn't it a beautiful thing? It can kill away a person and no one would ever have suspected anything.  
>Don't judge me, this is my story.<p>

**So, please review, tell me what you think of it, this was just the 'prologue'. If I get enough feedback then I'll carry this on. Of course the story isn't going to be written like the above; it will be in first person with speech and stuff. I'm a little nervous about posting this as this it is extremely personal to me. Please tell me if you are affected, and don't be afraid to drop me a little pm:) please R+R xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Time To Wipe Your Soul Clean**

_So yes, I decided to carry on. I mean if I can't carry on then I can always bring it down but hopefully it won't come to that! So enjoy and please R+R!..._

Only The Strong Survive

~Dougie~

"Voila!" Tom exclaims, his brown eyes sparkling wildly, "Didn't I tell you that is was hu-uuuge!"

We follow him through the big wooden opaque door and into the vestibule. As we file in, every one of us has our mouths hanging open. I mean, hello, this huge house is going to be _ours_. We're going to _live _here! Just four young teenage boys let loose. Most teenagers can only dream of this opportunity, to have no responsibilities!

Tom and Danny venture of deep into the house as me and Harry lag behind in complete awe.

I look around me, taking in my surroundings. I still have a bit of a queasy feeling in my stomach and no matter how babyish it might sound, I already feel a bit homesick.

"You've got to be kidding me! No bloody way!" me and Harry look at each other, then follow Danny's voice through to what must be the kitchen. Danny's pressed against the glass, jumping up and down in excitement. "We have a pool! We have a pool! How sick!"

(_A/N: sick means cool in like 'skateboard' talk_)

"What? How on earth did we get such a good house?" I manage to splutter out in shock.

Tom winks at me, "I'll need to teach you one day! I have been told that I am ranked one of the best! Watch and learn my friend!" Tom starts to pose ridiculously, pouting to imaginary cameras and sticking his bum out at unusual angles.

"Oh god, _please _be modest!" Harry punches Tom in the arm.

Tom cries in mock outrage, "Ouch!"

We laugh as he playfully lunges at Harry. Soon Harry and Danny have Tom pinned to the ground,

"Say Harry is the king!" Harry orders Tom, waving his tickling hand threateningly.

"No, never!" Tom sticks his chin out defiantly.

"Well, I gave you plenty opportunity…" Harry's hands delve into Tom's skin, tickling him to the point where tears stream down his dimpled cheeks.

"PLEASE MERCY!" he splutters, "HARRY IS THE KING!"

Harry laughs in triumph then releases Tom.

I look at the happy scene, and scold myself angrily for not getting involved, for staying the awkward one at the side. It always ends this way, me the onlooker. I used to think I liked it that way, now I'm not so sure. It's like seeing someone else's pain hurts me.

"I'm just going up to see the bedrooms" I tell no one in particular. I get a murmur of acknowledgement from someone. In a slight huff I go back to where I remember seeing the stairs. I climb them slowly, my hand running along the oak antique banister. I reach the top. The whole second floor is floor boards, a contrast to the carpeted downstairs and staircase. There are five doors to choose from, then another set of stairs, opposite to where I'm standing.

"_There are three floors?_" I puff out my cheeks in disbelief. This must be one of the biggest houses I've ever been in. Man, this is going to be my home!

I open the door that's tucked around a corner.

It opens straight into a rectangular room. It is, like everything else in the house, gigantic! On the wall opposite from the door is a massive window, taking up nearly half the wall. It looks onto the garden and the pool where Danny and Harry have dived in fully-clothed.

I roll my eyes.

I feel someone's presence behind me. I spin around.

"You alright?" smiles Tom from the doorway.

"Yeah" I force a smile, "Just getting a preview of the rooms!"

Tom laughs, "That does sound like a coy-Dougie-plan!"

I laugh with him, then stare down at my feet as an awkward silence settles.

"So which room has taken your liking?" Tom asks, assessing my face carefully.

I hate when people do that. They try and search my face, it makes me feel put on the spot.

"Definitely this one" I take of my Hurley cap and drop it in the centre of the room, "See, mine now!"

Tom rolls his eyes.

"I'll go start to bring up my boxes" I walk over to the doorway and try to dodge Tom. He puts a hand on my shoulder, stopping me.

"Dougie, if you need to talk, if it gets too much, I'm here for you. We all are" he tells me earnestly, a real look of sincerity on his face, "I can understand it might be hard being so young-"

"Your young too" I retort back stubbornly.

Tom frowns at me slightly, "Yeah, I know, just as long as you know you're not alone"

All of sudden Danny and Harry crash up the stairs.

"Hey, I found them!" Danny shouts, even though we're all close enough he could have whispered it.

I smile sadly at Tom before, this time successfully, dodging him and a very excited Danny. Harry follows me downstairs.

"Need help taking up your boxes?" he asks kindly.

I bite my lip, trying desperately not to hiss at him that I'm not a baby, I can manage by myself. Anyway, it will be quicker with his help.

"Sure" I open the front door to the two moving vans. I start of to the first one, remembering that's where my boxes ended up.

I throw back the doors, then sigh heavily as they reveal rows and rows, stacked to the ceiling of cardboard boxes.

Harry comes up behind me, "Jesus, we better get a move on then!" 

* * *

><p>After about six hours, I'm finally complete with my room, everything down to straightening up my Blink 182 posters to perfection. I've even made my bed. Everything looks so neat and tidy like a showroom. – That won't last long though! I plonk myself down onto my bed, glancing at my newly wired up alarm clock. Five o'clock at night… I'm shattered.<p>

I must have fallen asleep because I soon wake up to voices downstairs. Picking myself of the bed, I follow the voices downstairs. I creep down the stairs, eavesdropping on their conversation. I can identity Danny, Tom, Harry and Fletch (our manager). There's another voice I don't recognise. I creep further forward, curiosity dragging me closer to the door. I don't know why I'm eavesdropping, it's my house, and I can just walk in if I want.

"… yeah, Danny have you put together a demo yet?" the unfamiliar voice asks Danny.

"I've started it; I can have it copied onto a CD by tomorrow afternoon though" Danny replies, sounding exhausted.

"Perfect, now as your production organiser I'll need to write up a small summary of your album" says our production organiser. "I just need to take down some facts of you's all"

"No problem, we have the time" Tom offers.

"Right before we start where's the little bassist? The young one? Whathisnameagain?"

My breath catches in my throat.

"His name is Dougie" I barely hear Harry correct him sternly as I flee upstairs to my room. I close the door then scrunch up my face in anger. Am I really not that important? Anger curls around my stomach. I feel the heat of it radiate around my body, I feel power. It's not the end of the world if he doesn't remember my name. Then the feeling soon turns to pain. The familiar feeling of not being needed, not being remembered returns. I shudder as I realise the last time I had felt this way was when my dad had left. Or being an outcast at school.

I sink to the ground, bringing my knees up to my chest. What am I doing away out here in London, hours away from home with guys that are little more than strangers? I grit my teeth, forcing back tears.

_I am not going to cry_.

I chant to myself.

God sake Dougie, stop being a wuss! Soon you'll have an album out, be performing at concerts, appearing on TV and your _crying_ over someone not remembering your name?

_But it's more than that_.

A small voice says at the back of my head. It always is more, isn't it? How come it was me he didn't remember, not wise and responsible Tom, not funny and charming Danny and certainly not striking and handsome Harry? No, it was quiet, shy, young Dougie.

That's all it takes. One single tear runs down my cheek. How can I let it all out? I'm so out of my depth, so scared, alone and homesick. How can I feel some relief, some comfort? Where can I put all this pain?

The idea slyly enters my mind. I don't even notice it at first. I get up from the floor, the idea driving me forward. I don't even click what's going on. Even when I'm entering the bathroom and unzipping my wash bag; even when I find the small plastic floss box and place it on the sinks ledge. I click the lid of, to reveal, not floss but a small razor knife. I unfold it then hold it in my hands.

That's when I feel comfort. The memories flood back from me doing these exact same steps as a young teenager, twelve, thirteen maybe. It's the familiarity, the sense of doing it before, the memory of being back at home in my own bathroom that wills me to lift my hand up to the inside of my forearm. I hold the knife against skin, the metal making it tingle slightly. Then I press harder, and harder. I watch in fascination as the skin parts and little droplets of blood leak out. I release the pressure then look up into the mirror. I grin into it, the boy inside it grins back. It's okay, everything's going to be okay. The pain's leaking out now.

I run the blade under the tap before replacing it into the disguised box. I sit on the toilet lid, letting the blood fall onto the tissue I hold against it. That's the pain; red and pure. 

* * *

><p>I bound down the stairs happily, showered and freshly dressed even though it's starting to turn dark outside.<p>

"Hey!" I greet the five faces sitting around the table.

"Hi, you must be Dougie!" an old man, with a receding hair line, and stubbly beard greets me enthusiastically. This must be our production organiser. I look at him thoughtfully then flash him a big smile.

I take his outstretched hand and shake it.

"I sure am; the fourth member of the band"

The man smiles at me fondly. I make a cup of tea then join them all. Out the corner of my eye I can see Tom assessing my face. – But this time it's okay, I have nothing to hide, I'm clear of emotions.

Finally, I'm involved again. Their happiness is my happiness.

**So as soon as I the prologue of this up, like two hours ago? If even that, I don't know:L and suddenly I'm getting all these PMs and story alerts saying for me to carry on! You know, you's are amazing, the support you give is incredible:D! Luckily, I'm free and completely bored out my mind tonight, so I thought why not? I'll give you the first chapter!**** Might sound eager, but guess what I am eager on sharing this story**** PLEASE REVIEW IF YOU LIKED THIS..:D xxx**

Please if you're reading this, just leave me a small quick review telling me what you think and if there's any mistakes/anything I can work on! 


	3. Chapter 3

**Time To Wipe Your Soul Clean**

_Here's another chapter for my lovely and beautiful (handsome) readers! I'm sorry it's short but this is just the introduction, it will get better, PINKY PROMISE:D? Please review if you liked this :)…_

I'm Hurt But I'll Be Fine

~Sophie~

"Here you go dear!" my gran sets down the huge dish in front of me. It's overcrowded with mashed potatoes, big chunks of beef, two inch thick pastry, fat sausages and strips of bacon.

"Woah gran, you know I'm not that big an eater!" I laugh whilst picking up my cutlery and shaking my head in disbelief.

"There's no harm with a girl having some curves!" gran shakes her bum; I roll my eyes, "Never done me any harm!"

I start to tackle the beef, lobbing it into my mouth, "You really are a good chef!"

Gran settles herself into her old tatty armchair by the window (so she can spy on the neighbours), "Well, did you know I used to cook for the royal navy services? Yes, the men used to file in and I'd have their plates all lined up and ready to go! They all used to give me a peck on the cheek as I handed them their meal! That really was a good job" she smiles to herself, lost in memories.

I tuck into my dinner, savouring her famous creamy mashed potatoes. I peel layers from the thick pastry. I feel it slide down my throat and lodge itself in my stomach. I know I should stop eating. I think of all the fat sticking to my insides but I'm so hungry, I've only had a banana all day. For once I just want to eat. I want to be one of those girls that eat like a pig yet look like a bloody model. It feels so good to just have food being shoved into my mouth. I swirl the pastry in the gravy, making it doughy and soft. I watch as my piled up plate gets smaller and smaller until I'm left with only a few pieces of meat.

I sit back. Gran's fell asleep. Lucky thing.

I stare at my plate, trying to magic the food back, because if there's food on the plate, that means I haven't eaten it, right? I bite my lip as I feel furious tears start to nip at the back of my eyes. I'm so fat. I'm such a fat, ugly monstrous bitch. I should be dead. That portion could have served a whole blinkin' country. I feel the food, a dead weight in my stomach. I need it out; I need it anywhere BUT my stomach. I brush away the few tears that land on my cheeks angrily.

I know there's only one thing I can do. There only ever has been one thing to do, even after three years of doing it. I rise from my chair slowly. I carry my plate through to the kitchen, deliberately taking my time as I scrape the gravy into the bin.

I walk to the bottom of the stairs then start to climb them. I wish I could be stuck in time. You know, I wish someone could just press pause on my life, to give me a break. Then I could wander about as everyone's frozen. Do you ever feel like life's going too fast, so fast that you're missing things? Like missing out details? Forgetting memories too fast? Everything's just a crazy blur. I feel like I'm on a roundabout, and someone's pushing me too fast!

I stop outside the bathroom, and then creek the door open. It clicks shut behind me. I grab a towel that's hanging over the bath then stuff it under the small gap between the door and carpet, this should block out most of the noise even though gran could sleep through a war. I unroll a wad of toilet paper and stuff it down the toilet, another trick for hiding the sound. I turn on the tap, cupping my hands underneath it until their full. I take a big gulp then get on my knees before the toilet. This is the worst part. I select my two fingers then stretch my mouth wide. I plunge the fingers down my throat and retch. Just a dry retch, the worst. I put my fingers down again but nothing comes. I drink some more water from the tap. You don't have to do this, Sophie. You have a choice, you can just walk away, you could stop this all. I grit my teeth angrily then forcefully throw my fingers down my throat. They brush against my tonsils. I shudder then do it again; my mouth fills up with acid. One more time, I tell myself. Then it comes rushing out. It's foamy, and tastes like nothing. It doesn't even taste like the food or sick, it's just a thick gooey liquid. It's brown coloured. I scrunch up my face. I don't look at it for long. I wash my face and hands before flushing the toilet. Done, over. I look up into the mirror. I grin into it, the girl inside it grins back. It's okay, everything is going to be okay. The pain is out, flushed down the toilet. I feel relief wash over me as my stomach settles into a peaceful bliss. Now my feelings are out, I can get some sort of grip onto reality.

* * *

><p>I bound down the stairs happily, feeling happier than I can ever remember.<p>

"Hey!" I greet my now fully awaken gran. She looks up and smiles at me from her book.

"Hi, honey" she replies.

"Your dinner was gorgeous! Hopefully I've got your cooking skills!"

Gran smiles at me fondly. I make a cup of tea for her and then join her by the window. Out the corner of my eye I can see her looking at my face, probably confused by my sudden change of mood. Finally, I've got a grip on reality again.

**Please, please, PLEASE no one do ANY of these th****ings that are mentioned in this story.**** It doesn't help anything, it might seem like it does at the start, but you have to trust me, it solves NONE of your problems, it just creates more! If your even thinking about starting any of this then please PM me and let me help you! This fanfic is for entertainment purposes only, not to give anyone any ideas! Bulimia has ruined my ****childhood;**** everyone has a choice, so make the right one! Anyway I hate how all my A/N's on this fic are heavy****! ****Food is a great thing; something human's 100% NEED to have to survive! If you eat it in moderation then there's no need, especially at a young age to think twice about your weight, get out there and have fun!**

**I love you's loads, and all reviews are appreciated:D Hopefully a new update soon! xxx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Time To Wipe Your Soul Clean  
><strong>_So here's a 'Dougie' chapter for you McFLY lovers out there!  
><em>_P.S thank you so much for the support xx_

~Dougie~

"I'll race you to the other side, right?" Danny bobs up and down in the water, his words flowing out in a rush. Honestly, he acts like an excited puppy.

I roll my eyes, "But you'll just get all competitive on me and rub it in when I lose!" I complain.

I squint my eyes to try and make out the other side of the pool but the sun blinds me, "I can't even see the finishing line!"

"I'm sure you'll realise your finished when you crash into it!" he laughs, a mischievous look overcomes his face, "NOW GO!" he screams, pushing of from the wall, starting the front crawl.

"That's not fair!" I whine but follow anyway, doing a cross between the doggie paddle and butterfly.

Harry yells from the house, "Come on Dougie! God you swim like a girl!"

I huff angrily, nearly drowning myself as I open my mouth to retort back only to have it fill up with chlorine water. I spit it out in disgust; no doubt Danny's peed in here.

I hear Harry's faint laugh and snide comment; "Look, he's drowning!"

I can see Danny not far up ahead and kick my arms and legs ferociously. I'm nearly there… nearly over taking… I might actually win this… SPLASH!

A weight crashes down on top of me, sending me under. I sink lower down into the deep pool, confused until I click what's just happened. I untangle myself from flailing limbs and realise it's all down to Harry. I resurface, absolutely livid.

"What the fuck was that for?" I scream, getting angrier at his laughing face.

He throws his head back, roaring with laughter, Danny swims up to us, takes one look at my face then joins in, his laugh more like a hyenas.

I growl, and then make for the steps at the side.

"Aw come on Doug, it was only a laugh!" teases Harry. I climb out from the pool, deliberately ignoring him. "Stop being such a baby!" Danny yells after me.

It's that word that sends me crazy.

_Baby_.

That's all that people ever go on about. _Aw, Dougie you're so young. Dougie's only young, he wouldn't understand. The young bass player. The baby of the band_. All the time, it's all I ever get!

Why can't people see I _can_ be trusted, I _can_ be responsible instead of bringing me down or judging me by my youth! They're all young too! They're only a couple of years older than me for crying out loud!

"Dougie come back!" Danny shouts, sounding a little more sincere than earlier.

I kick over a garden chair furiously then make for the house. I crash through the patio doors and into the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" asks Tom, rushing over, looking concerned.

"It's nothing, just the guys acting like pricks as usual" I seethe, shaking with anger.

Tom puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder, "I know, they don't mean it. They think it's alright just because you're the youngest but-"

I push Tom away, blinded with red fury, "Will everybody shut up about me being young!" I shout then stomp up the stairs to my room.

I step into my bedroom then deliberately, with all my force, slam the door shut. I stand panting for a moment. My heart slowly starts to calm down, returning to a normal steady beat. My breathe evens out, and my brain processes how childish I've just acted, taking a hissy fit like that. I shake my head then collapse into my spinney boss chair. I twirl around dismissively as I try and get my head around things.

I know I need to stop and think before I act, that's for sure but sometimes it can be so hard. When I get angry, the anger takes over. Then I'm angry at everything that's ever happened in my life, even if it has nothing to do with the situation I'm currently in. I'm so blinded and confused by the heat and rage of my fury, I have no control over what I do. It can be scary, but also relieving at the same time. I mean, at least I'm getting some of the hurt out of me, right? Better out than in is what I always say. It can feel like I'll suddenly flip at the slightest thing though, like I'm always on the lookout for something that'll tip me over the edge. I'm getting more paranoid as the days go by! I've always been a slightly nervous person, this mainly being down to dad but lately I feel like I might as well not be here. All the guys ever do is point out my flaws and bring me down. It's one low blow after another. I feel like a punch bag. Jab, jab, jabjabjab! Constantly at me, never giving me a break to rest. Of course they don't know their being offensive or insulting, they're just having fun. I don't blame them, I wish I could join them, to just relax and loosen up. I can't though, because every step or move I make is watched, everything I do adds up to something. One toe out of line and there I am, in a red hot haze of fury. But to Harry, Danny and Tom, it's all just a joke, to them life's just there. They take it for granted. They have everything, they have perfect families, Tom has a perfect girlfriend, and they're all talented and so damn happy. Something I'll never understand. How can I be happy? Is there a book on '_How To Be Happy'_? because if there is, you know what you're buying me for my birthday. It's not that I don't have anyone or anything to be happy for it's just the fact I've forgotten. Maybe dad beat it out of me, or maybe I wasn't meant to be happy, maybe it's God playing a cruel game. My cheek muscles have actually forgotten to stretch into a smile, my laughter's lost in sobs.

Isn't there a way where I can let out the pain without involving others, without hurting them and bringing them into my shit?

Yes. Yes, there is another way.

I sigh deeply. The worst thing is, I know I can walk away… but I don't, instead my feet carry me forward and into my bathroom. I sit on the closed toilet seat, my hands travelling along the worktop then stopping by the packaging of a floss company. I open it up and smile as I find the small blade safely and secretly concealed. I pick it out of the box then roll up my sleeve. Excitement sparks in the pit of my stomach as I realise in less than a few minutes I'll be back to being happy.

I press the blade into the skin. At first the skin just puckers stubbornly, refusing to open up. I give my wrist a small tweak, red blood suddenly trickles down my arm. I grin uncontrollably as I watch the red drops pitter patter onto the bathroom's laminated floor. The familiar sensation of the scratchy, dented feeling shoots up and down my arm. I release the pressure as the drips become steadier faster. I replace the blade and watch in my element as a small puddle forms, the drips swirling into each other. If I could, I'd sit and watch them all day. After a while, the drips become more spaced out until they come to a halt altogether. I dig out an antiseptic wipe from deep within my cupboard then start to wipe up the cut. I wince at the sting of it then relax as a glowing feeling enters my body.

I'm not lost anymore; I've been brought back to earth, no more floating about. Finally the pains out, leaving enough room for my happiness. My cheek muscles lock into a permanent smile as I saunter back out my bathroom and into my bedroom. I drift over to the window and swing it open, taking a huge breathe of the fresh spring air. I hear laughter and look down to see both Harry and Danny armed with water pistols. There diving and rolling about, James Bond style, squirting at each other and then faking dramatic deaths. I duck back out the window, planning on joining them. Just as I'm clicking the window shut, I catch Tom's eye. He's lounging on a sunbed, his eyes fixed on mine, trying to find something out of place on my face. He can't though, he won't, there's nothing there, so he returns to whatever book he's reading.

I jog out into the garden in only my swimming trunks. Tom gets up as soon as I walk out. He passes me, giving me a slight smile as he goes. He must be offended by my outburst earlier on, not that I blame him. I'm about to apologise but he's already disappeared. I wonder what he's up to.

The question dissolves when a wave of happiness sweeps through me. I sprint over to Danny and Harry, grabbing a pistol as I go then take aim. Harry squeals like a girl and dives for cover behind our trampoline. Danny freezes in mock fear. I laugh hysterically as I pull the trigger; he staggers backwards, clutching his chest. Me and Harry roll our eyes.

"You should have gone to acting school!" I laugh harder while I place my foot on his chest, keeping him down before squirting him right in his left eye.

* * *

><p>The three of us stumble into the house, laughing and joking around. We only came in because of the darkness and now freezing cold winds. British weather is famous for switching directions in the blink of an eye.<p>

"Dinner's on the table!" Tom yells from the dining room.

Our stomachs rumble, none of us had even given food a thought whilst chasing each other around the garden.

Just as I'm about to sit down, Tom grabs my wrist, his lips brushing past my ear.

"_I need to talk to you"_ he whispers. I frown, not understanding but following him out the room.

"What's up?" I ask cheerily.

"I was cleaning upstairs and came across your bathroom… Dougie, why was there blood all over the floor?" Tom asks, his voice quivering.

Inside, fear and shock paralyze me. I let out an easy laugh, "Tom, I had a nose bleed! Harry kicked my nose by accident when he jumped on me in the pool!" I shake my head in fake disbelief, the lie falling from between my lips simply.

Tom stops, like he's thinking hard, then let's out a long breath he must have been holding in.

"Thank god!" he sounds overly relieved.

I roll my eyes, "Sorry, I couldn't be bothered to clean it up, thought I'd leave it for you" I tease.

He punches me jokingly on my cut arm; I flinch ever so slightly, subtle enough for him not to see.

"Come on, let's get dinner!"

He walks back into the dining room.

I stay back and start to shake. That was so close. Too close for my liking. I need to be more careful. I grit my teeth, and then pinch my cut. Fresh pain nips at it, I nod in satisfaction then go to join everyone.

**So… did you's like? I promise it's going to get more exciting!  
><strong>**Please review!  
><strong>**xxx**


End file.
